News You Can't Use: Dominatrix Sued for Elderly Exploitation

By now we've all read the greatest literary classic in American history, seen the award-winning big screen adaptation and then attempted to apply what we had learned about whippings and bondage contract law to our own lives. Everything was fine until that last step. Then the ugly reality stepped in. Instead of sexy vampires that own factories and improbably named college students with an impeccable command of prose the real world gives us half-dead elderly scumbags, opportunistic human parasites and glumly staring at a bank statement covered in red ink and hoping that will somehow turn your crank. Yes, stupid old reality ruined another fantasy. Well, at least I still have my vampirism. I'm sure that hasn't been wrecked by losers, weirdos and poseurs.

On her website, Central Florida dominatrix "Goddess Jude" says she enjoys spanking, flogging, whipping and other fetish activities.

Pretty typical, stomach-churning stuff. Because mommy and daddy didn't give me enough attention when I was a tot I'll pay to be hit by a bloated and unattractive woman. You know Mr. Putin, if you want to "accidentally" bump into that giant red button...

The dominatrix also advertises "financial slavery" for clients who wish to "pamper" their mistress.

Man, I actually feel a little jealous about someone who gets off on financial disasters, especially in this day and age. "After that banker bailout I couldn't walk for three days." Or just set up one of those national debt counters over your bed and you'd be set. China is dropping our currency? Oh God. Yes. Yes!

"Given his mental and physical condition, he was exploited," said Abrams' attorney Brian Mark, who claims his client was suffering from clinical depression, dementia and Alzheimer's disease when he added Gumbrecht’s name to his financial accounts. 

More like clinical horny, am I right? Haw. Haw. Seriously, how does someone who might not make it through the night seek out a special spanking service? I'm pretty sure Medicare doesn't cover that. Well, maybe these days it does.

Abrams met Gumbrecht about four years ago after divorcing his wife of 32 years, Mark said. According to the lawsuit, Gumbrecht told Abrams "it was of the highest honor to be her financial slave," and convinced him that such servitude "would bring her the most pleasure."

When paying taxes is not a big enough waste to boost the horny levels, I guess this is the next natural step. Well, that or trying to restore sanity and normalcy to your ruined life, but where's the heavy breathing in that?

"Gumbrecht continued to reward Abrams with sexual favors," states the lawsuit, which adds that "Abrams would be punished" if he failed to adhere to the dominatrix's financial requirements.

I derive sexual pleasure from punishments. I get punished for doing things my dominatrix doesn't want. Logic trap?

On her website, Gumbrecht states she is a BDSM professional who "will NEVER perform illegal sexual acts."

The $300 an hour buys time, pleasant conversations and NOTHING ILLEGAL.

Mark acknowledged it is not illegal for a dominatrix to offer sadomasochistic and financial slavery services.  

Yup, there it is, right there in the First Amendment. Thank you founding perverts.

 Can do things you've never even imagined, like graduating high school in 1981.

However, the attorney claims Gumbrecht knew about Abrams' diminished mental state because she accompanied him to an appointment with a neuropsychologist and psychotherapist in 2013. 

This is just my dom, doc. I had to let her come with me or I'd be punished with clothespins and candle wax. Let's talk about my mental health.

In May 2014, Abrams signed a deed transferring his Casselberry townhome to Gumbrecht. The property has an assessed value of $101,537.

100k. Yes. In Florida. In 2015. So it's basically a falling down rotting shack built in a swamp.

In February, Local 6 learned that Orlando Code Enforcement had received multiple complaints from at least one of Gumbrecht's neighbors claiming she was improperly running her dominatrix business out of a home in a residential area without a permit.

"Before you paddle me and call me worthless scum can I please see your permit so I know you're a fully bonded and accredited mental defective."

Gumbrecht's website featured a photo of a home on Grant Street, which was described as a "dungeon."

Wow, really? Can't wait to explore it with my Elven Fighter/Magic-User and see what kind of treasures are there.

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Komment Korner  

 
it rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again

Well, he wanted a Dominatrix and he got one.

What happened to people only being interested in normal sex

Now you've done it. Get ready for the hate mail from "The People Who Do It With Donkeys Task Force". 

Freedom of choice rears its ugly head.


Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.   

News You Can't Use: Airlines Struggle to Please the Modern Passenger

I'm all about providing those client-based solutions and by that I mean solving their problems, not somehow grinding them down to use in alchemical processes. The problem is today's modern world is so full of complexity that it's become a bitter struggle to fulfill the ever-changing whims of human units that were primarily raised and educated by various glowing screens. Is there an answer to this problem of societal alienation and atomized selfishness? The answer is no, but let's talk about overhead compartments and pretend it's helping.

What does the modern air traveler want?

It's a question we're all trying to answer, but sometimes a 747 flying into the Grand Canyon is just a 747 flying into the Grand Canyon.

Is it the perfect sized carry-on?

Now perfectly suited to all your "Do you even lift?" frailties.

A wearable device that tells you how to avoid jet lag?

Beep boop Get lots of sleep bop boop bleep.

Free Wi-Fi? Cheap flights? Better service?

Groping and radiation baths for the elderly? A can of soda you can bring on board? Leg room? Who knows.

Airlines are struggling to keep pace with the finicky desires of today's passengers, many of whom are constantly connected to a mobile device and want something special on each trip.

If you're expecting your flight to Wheeling to have a "happy ending" you're in for a disappointment.

During a panel discussion Tuesday at the annual meeting of the International Air Transport Association (IATA), the largest trade group for airline executives, hundreds of industry representatives were asked in a quick informal poll how many think airlines are doing a good job meeting passenger demands.

This quick informal poll consisted of yelling "Ey, how you doin'?" at their suit-clad backs.

Fifty-five percent pressed "no" on their handheld devices.

The other 45 percent were dead drunk from the complimentary Mixx Tails.

"Don't give me a vanilla experience," said panelist Lee McCabe, a former executive with Expedia who is now Facebook's head of travel.

Cater to my travel-based kinks. Handcuff me to the seat. Call me a terrorist and hit me. Put a black sack on my head and drop me off in a Cuban military base. So, so hot.

"Make the information you give me very personal," he said. "Make my life easy."

"Remember when you got caught paint huffing in junior high? Or your childhood nickname, "Binky?" Here's your peanuts."

Alex Cruz, CEO of the low-cost Spanish airline Vueling, said his company strives to keep it simple. "They want a nice, reliable experience at a normal price," he said.

This is clearly crazy talk. We want special "apps" and the full boyfriend experience.

Qantas chief executive Alan Joyce said "every customer wants something different."

Every happy flier is happy in the same way, while every miserable one is unique in their misery.

According to Jen Durkin, CEO of Project Travel, millennials don't want healthy snacks or free Wi-Fi.

I heard "healthy" and immediately became hostile.

"Millennials are curious, and because there are so many things that distract our attention we need help understanding what we should put our attention to," she said.

They're like crows fascinated by shiny objects, but far, far less likable.

"I want to know what my bag is doing from the time it goes in the conveyor belt little door to the time it comes out of the conveyor belt," Durkin said.

If my bag is secretly coming to life and bad-mouthing me, I want to know.

"We will be able to learn more about our passengers and be able to offer them more tailored information to their needs," he added.

Well, it's working great here on the internet where my tailored profile gets me endless commercials for finishing schools and med-alert jewelry.

During the conference, Windmuller announced a new industry-wide standard for carry-on bags, an idea that aims to resolve bickering and delays over whether any given suitcase is too big to fit in the overhead bin.

Finally, an honorable peace to the Suitcase Wars.

Many airlines have different size requirements for carry-ons, which can lead to confusion.

Me no like use brain.

You been working out?

But whether this standard will please consumers remains to be seen. It requires travelers to buy a new carry-on bag, which may be smaller than what they already own.

You can spend more money on an inferior product. Who would have a problem with that?

The new bags will made by different manufacturers and will be marked with a special label, "IATA Cabin OK." The label is not available to be placed on an existing bag.

Yeah, I know you were thinking it. Don't even try it, we're on to you.

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I want lower fares.

I don't want to take my belt or shoes or hoodie off, or take out my laptop, or my personal effects, or get irradiated

I finally got the coffee and it was literally the WORST coffee I have EVER had.

the most objectionable thing about flying today is the inane, useless, arrogant TSA goons, drunk with their own power and importance

This guy came down the aisle who looked like Mr. Creosote from Monty Python's Meaning of Life

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

Choose Your Own Adventure #6: Your Code Name is Jonah

Last time out my promising, if small time, ghostbusting career was severely derailed by a series of plot elements that could charitably be called "hot garbage." Still smarting from that bad experience, I wanted to try a book I remembered from my childhood and knew would be a can't miss good time.

Actually, I wanted to do "Jonah" from the very beginning, but there was just one small problem that I'll illustrate below.

The government gets better deals on pens and pencils.

It's even more a rip-off when you consider there's a chance you'll get the lame reprint "Spy Trap," the copy you'll get in "acceptable" condition will resemble half a shoebox worth of confetti and every other CYOA book sells for a penny used. I honestly have no idea why the price on this one is so inflated, although it is one of the better and more memorable early entries. Are people really paying several hundred dollars for a battered mass market paperback? I can't get over this.

Anyway, after months of regular checking I finally found a copy for less than a dollar. It turned out to be the original version and in pretty good condition, so suck on that 80s children's book profiteers.

Seventy dollars. One star vendor rating. Lowest possible condition. What. The. Fudge.

I almost feel I should seal this bad boy in a vault or buy special insurance for it rather than read it, but I've got an uncompensated job to do and I take that very seriously. Like I hinted at earlier, this one is very different. You play an adult, for one, which might be the only time in this series that happens. And no, I don't want some crank to e-mail me a correction if that's wrong. You're a spy, there's cold war goodness and plenty of bad endings where you die horribly or get told you're a failure because you have a conscience. All right, the former isn't that unusual, but the latter is. Sort of.

None of this "pistol in each hand" silliness. Try a pistol and an AK. 

I'm in a sub-basement beneath the White House, a few doors down from the department that reads all your e-mails and the one that selects any right of center group for severe I.R.S. audits. My boss is "glaring" at me, which seems a bit much considering this is nothing more than a mission briefing. He wants to know what I know about whale songs and I humor him in the most patronizing way possible. I'm here to disarm bombs, seduce women with ridiculous sexually-themed names and fire off one-liners. Learning about aquatic mammals isn't even on the radar.

Despite my obvious lack of interest we plow forward with a story about a whale researcher who is trying to figure out why these excellent sources of lamp oil are vanishing. It appears a new whale song might unlock the mystery, but then Captain Science pulled his own disappearing act and we have reason to believe that the Reds might be involved, including KGB all-star "Double-Eye," who is presumably a young Vladimir Putin. I've got to find the missing egg-head, give fist imprints and lead injections to the Bolsheviks and solve the mystery of the new song. It's no "They might be stealing Bolivia's water!" but it will have to do.

The plot, more or less.

I decide to start with an interrogation and possible water-boarding of the last person to see the wayward scientist before his disappearance, a "Dr. Klein." He says they were using an "omputer" to analyze the song, but with the team head gone, the project has stalled out. Maybe you could go on the "ternet" and see if you can find any help there. I'm guessing I somehow obtained the extremely rare "typo on page four" version, so I'll be adding a few hundred dollars to the resale price. 

Fortunately this riveting discussion of the sounds emitted by Moby Dick is cut short by The Agency calling to alert me to a "Anton Roudnitska" a Soviet Agent planning to make his escape from a seaside farmhouse by boat to a waiting submarine. There's reason to believe this guy knows where the missing researcher is. I politely tell Klein that listening to his mix tape of cetacean vocal melodies will just have to wait. It's time to tackle the evil empire's shadow soldiers.

This is a real image that has not been altered in any way.

I take the next flight to Halifax, walking right on board with multiple guns in my hands because it's 1980 and that's how the world was back then if the evidence I've pieced together from discarded cans of "Billy Beer" is at all reliable. At the airport I'm met by a car. A young woman claims she's from the "Canadian Intelligence Office" and that I should get in the car. Already working on horrible "Canadian beaver" wordplay after I inevitably seduce her I get in and am promptly sandwiched between two armed thugs, both pressing the heat in my guts. Then I get clubbed over the head, which seems somewhat excessive at this point.

"We fight shadow wars, eh."

Now begins the obligatory "I expect you to die, Mr. Bond!" scene as I wake up in a farm house, chained to a bed. Yeah, apparently living in a closed society with rigid restrictions on free expression leads to kinkiness. Well, at least it does in 2013 America. The reference to "rubbing my throbbing head" certainly does little to remove my thoughts from the gutter. 

Anyway, Stalin's Secret Fun Club wants me to answer a call from the missing scientist and then encourage "Russian cooperation" as the only viable solution to the whale crisis. Yes, kids, there was a time when getting someone to sell out America required this sort of violent, convoluted set-up. They're all "do it or die" so I go along, hoping the researcher will realize I'm just trolling. 

The real "save the whales" heroes, right here.

I have a short conversation with the Big Brain, hoping he'll pick up on my sarcastic tone of voice, unlike everyone else I talk to. The KGB goons are appeased by my performance and announce it's time to "chain me back to the bed." Someone, somewhere on the internet, has probably used this scene as inspiration to write "Your Code Name is Jonah" gay bondage erotica. 

While getting frog-marched the other red operative yells "Hey Vladimir!" Man, did I call that or what. I use this distraction to break free of the Kung Fu grip of the future President of Russia and escape through a window under a "hail of bullets." Ok, that kicked ass. 

Everything is quickly wrapped up. The enemy spies have fled with false intel, the researcher is rescued and it turns out Anton Roudnitska, that guy I was hunting before my ignominious capture, is actually one of our people in deep cover. Nice try Boris, you almost had us, but freedom and democracy are victorious. Oh, and about the whale song and the missing whales? Not important any more, I guess.

This was as good as I remembered. Not three hundred dollars worth of good, of course, but worth checking out in the unlikely event you find a semi-reasonable price. The spy story is generally solid and original. There's lots of classic illustrations, gun play and a tone that while perhaps not mature is at least serious and consistent.

 

Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.